


Seeking Sanctuary

by elavoria



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Magic-Users, Skeletons, Undead, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elavoria/pseuds/elavoria
Summary: A recently-turned Altmer vampire learns to be comfortable with her undeath, forging a tenuous relationship with the Dark Brotherhood and working to master her conjuration and illusion skills.Updates will likely be erratic.Working title was Stories from the Sex Crypt [no sex actually included].





	1. Chapter 1

3E 414, Frostfall

Elnora smiled to herself as the elegant Breton vampire came into view, an invisible smile as she waited in the shadows under her invisibility spell — dark clothes with a trim vest, gold necklace, ebony longsword, regal bearing. His long brown hair was tied in a ponytail; loose strands framed his improbably gaunt face. He was walking toward the sanctuary; she was in wait across the cobbled road in a small gap between houses. Her heart was pounding in anticipation of approaching him for the first time. Taking a deep breath, she dropped her invisibility, pushed her hood back, and walked into the road in front of him, her long cloak trailing behind her. The male vampire’s eyes widened in surprise, but he returned her smile.

“May I join you?” Elnora asked, holding his white eyes with her own. She felt the seconds lengthen as they appraised each other.

“Certainly,” he replied after a pause, motioning for them to turn to walk along the unlit city walls before clasping his hands behind his back. She took a more defensive position, with her arms crossed loosely.

“What brings you to Cheydinhal —”

“— Elnora —”

“Elnora,” he repeated. “A lovely name. Mine is Vicente, Valtieri. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Well, I’m not here to encroach upon your territory. At least, not without an invitation,” she said with a brief, playful smile that only partially hid her nervousness.

“My dear, I would never assume such a thing.”

Elnora gave him an appreciative look, then sighed.

“The short version is that I ran out of places to go.”

“And the long version?”

“You would care to hear it?”

“Of course.”

“You’re as much a gentleman as you look,” Elnora said softly.

They stopped walking for a moment, and Vicente gave her a meaningful look.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t say that if you knew more about me. Thank you, nonetheless.”

Elnora pondered her response as they continued their walk, but her thoughts were interrupted.

“I wonder — are we of the same blood?”

It was Elnora’s turn to stop walking, and she felt her heart pounding again.

“Your eyes. You’re not Cyrodiilic. I was turned in Vvardenfell, by the Berne.”

“I — I’m afraid I don’t know my bloodline.”

Vicente tilted his head, bemused. Elnora took a deep breath and collected herself.

“I was turned in Summerset, only about a year ago. I... killed my sire.”

Elnora raised a gloved hand to her eyes to block the memory of his advances, but she could not repress a shudder.

“Forgive me, Elnora. Had I known, I would not have —”

Elnora shook her head and gave him a small smile.

“It will only get easier by talking about it. But please, can we continue this conversation another night?”

“Yes, of course. Will you be all right?”

Elnora nodded, touched by his concern.

“I’m afraid I can’t offer you a place to stay and rest. Do you have somewhere to go?”

Elnora nodded again, and tears welled in her eyes. She was shaking; their hands found each other’s, and she held his tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I haven’t met such kindness in a long time. It’s... overwhelming.”

After a pause, she indicated they should keep walking, and continued, “I’ve made a home in the catacombs of Fort Scinia. Not the most luxurious, but the undead don’t bother me, and the marauders think the old tombs are haunted. Please, come visit any time. It can get rather lonely. Now, I think this is your stop, yes?”

Vicente simply stared at her; they were again standing behind the abandoned house. Elnora gave him a knowing smile and put on her hood.

“I hope to see you soon,” she said with undisguised longing.

Vicente snapped out of his surprise.

“Yes, soon. There are some matters to which I must attend, but after that... Take care, Elnora, please.”

The elven vampire nodded her thanks, then disappeared into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elnora started as one of my Skyrim characters, but after working out her pre-Skyrim life, I had to write about it, so here goes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: attempted rape

Elnora looked up from her notes at the sound of footsteps. The undead whose space she shared took no notice of the visitor, which put a smile on her face as she turned toward the entrance of her makeshift lair. She stood to meet Vicente when he came into view, her long black dress trailing behind her.

“My lady,” Vicente said as he smiled and bowed.

“My lord,” Elnora replied, her eyes twinkling as she dropped into a low curtsey. “I trust the climb wasn’t too troublesome.”

“Not at all. I hope you’ll forgive my impertinence last time we met. Here, I’ve brought you a little something.”

Vicente held out a beautifully bound book, and Elnora’s eyes widened as she took in its intricate details.

“Opusculus Lamae Bal,” she read.

“Have you heard of our matron?”

Elnora shook her head, embarrassed.

“I thought you would have a lot of learning to do. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

Elnora hugged the book to her chest with a happy smile.

“Thank you. It’s lovely.” She laughed softly, then remarked, “You must be wealthy.”

Vicente smiled.

“My line of work pays well. Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Elnora placed the book on the tomb she was using as a desk, then returned to him.

“You are so kind, Vicente. I don’t understand. Every other vampire I’ve come across in the last year has ranged from unwelcoming to openly hostile.”

Vicente took a seat on another tomb and motioned for Elnora to join him, putting his outstretched arm around her thin frame as she sat next to him.

“Cyrodiilics,” he said simply. “They are not the most friendly. I’ve come here to offer you something else — my story. Perhaps you’ll understand when you hear it.”

“Thank you,” Elnora murmured.

“I was on an expedition to Vvardenfell, let’s see... around 285 years ago.”

“Oh,” Elnora gasped softly, suddenly self-conscious of his attention. Vicente noticed and stroked her back in comfort. She shuddered at the touch but nestled closer to him.

“I was deep in the Ashlands when I was stricken. At first I only felt more tired than usual, but every time I tried to sleep, I was plagued by horrible nightmares. I’m sure you recall those?”

Elnora nodded. “They were only part of the reason I didn’t sleep during that time,” she said. “There was so much... so much.”

“I had my suspicions that I had been stricken, but the nightmares made me certain. I was too far away from civilization to find a healer of appropriate skill, and I lacked the right potions. I tried to stay awake as long as possible. I had meant to run, to protect my fellow adventurers, but I was too fatigued. Eventually I was overcome by exhaustion, and when I awoke, I had turned, and I was... so hungry.”

Vicente dropped his head, still regretting the deaths from centuries ago. Elnora reached out to hold the hand that was not around her, and he squeezed hers in appreciation.

“It didn’t take long to notice how my physical skills were improved. I was more agile, stealthier, my fists were more powerful, and I lost my need for armor. I knew that each bloodline granted unique capabilities, and after I had learned to control my new instincts, I ventured back to civilization under the guise of needing information for hunting the very creatures whose ranks I had joined — the Dunmer are particularly hostile to our kind. After a bit of research, I found that I had most likely been turned by a member of the Berne bloodline. I never sought out the clan; you’ll find that they are inhospitable in general. I lived and hunted in secrecy for nearly a hundred years. It was a lonely existence... then I found my new family. Or rather, they found me.”

“I’m glad you found them,” Elnora said.

“I’m glad you found me,” Vicente replied. “I wish to help you because I lacked guidance after my turning, and it’s clear you’re not here to challenge me. You’re in need of a friend, a mentor —” he broke off to stroke her cheek gently, briefly, before continuing, “— perhaps something more. We shall see.”

Overcome with emotion, Elnora stood and walked away from him, then returned and knelt before him, taking his hands in hers.

“Vicente,” she said, her voice almost trembling. “Thank you.”

She adjusted herself to a sitting position and rested her head on his lap, keeping hold of his hands. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let herself relax.

“Would that you were my sire,” she said softly.

“Oh, Elnora.”

She raised her head at the tenderness in his voice and noticed he was blushing, which made her blush in turn. She returned his shy smile with her own, then buried her face in his lap again. Vicente freed one of his hands and ran his fingers through her white hair, then gently along her back and shoulders.

“Will you tell me about him?”

Elnora thought for a moment, enjoying his touch.

“Only if you hold me while I tell you.”

“I think I can accommodate that.”

Vicente set his sword on the tomb then slipped off and leaned his back against it; Elnora snuggled close to him, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and gave her his other hand to hold.

“It was in Summerset?”

“Yes, my home. Or I suppose, what was my home. Shimmerene. Perhaps I’ll go back someday.”

Elnora paused to listen to Vicente’s heartbeat before continuing, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“He was courting me. He appreciated my interest in necromancy and summoning, unlike most people I knew. My parents disapproved of him. They seemed to disapprove of everything I did. They were very traditional Altmer — anti-daedra and against necromancy. I think they were ashamed of my obsession with death. I got most of my knowledge of the craft from books. Sometimes,” she paused, embarrassed. “Sometimes I would raise dead animals... just for the company.”

The elven vampire sighed as she recalled how lonely she had been, and gave Vicente’s hand a squeeze to remind herself that he was real and present.

“Rianil — that was his name — seemed like a dream. He must have recognized me as an easy target. He acted the gentleman, but it was only a front. One night we were at his house, and something in him snapped. He was argumentative, aggressive. Before I knew what was happening, he had forced me onto his bed, holding me down with one hand and untying his pants with the other. I tried to struggle free, but he was stronger than he looked. He pulled up my skirt —”

Elnora buried her face deeper into Vicente’s chest, tightening her grip on him, and he held her closer in turn. Saying it aloud caused the memories she had tried to repress to flood over her, and she was back in Rianil’s bedroom, pinned and terrified, filled with desperate rage and a sense of heartbroken betrayal. She saw again the lust and hunger in his pale eyes as he held her down with a cruel smile. He was saying something, he was —

“— safe, you’re safe, dear.”

Vicente’s voice washed over her, pulling her back to the present. She realized she was shaking and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Vicente took her face in his hands.

“Look at me, Elnora.”

The elven vampire collected herself and hesitantly met his eyes with her tear-filled ones. He ran his hands down her shoulders and arms and clasped her hands in his.

“He can’t hurt you, dear. You’re safe here. If anyone tries to hurt you again, I will cut them down myself.”

Elnora nodded then lowered her gaze again, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall.

“Thank you, Vicente. Thank you.”

“We can discuss something else if you would prefer.”

“No, I need to get through this.”

Vicente tucked a strand of Elnora’s hair behind her ear.

“If you’re certain.”

The Altmer nodded again, then settled to rest her head against Vicente’s chest.

“I thrashed around enough to keep him from violating me. He was enraged and started screaming at me. I only noticed his teeth moments before he sank them into my neck. I think he meant to kill me, but I got a hand free and used my minimal destruction powers to burn his neck for a few seconds. That startled him enough that I was able to get out from under him and grab his war axe that was laying on the table. I had never used one before. I just kept hitting him with it until he stopped moving. There was blood everywhere, running down my neck, on my dress...”

Elnora paused, reflexively crinkling her nose as she recalled the strong scent of iron.

“He deserved no less,” Vicente remarked, rubbing her back in encouragement.

Elnora laughed softly, thankful for her new companion.

“I didn’t know what to do. I was scared. I didn’t want to be accused of murder, so I took the axe and ran to the abandoned house on the edge of the city where I kept my books and other materials. I hid it and changed into a spare set of clothes. I was so shaken that I couldn’t do anything but sit there and hold myself for hours until I passed out, only to be awoken by an awful nightmare. I knew that going to a healer was out of the question; I had enough of a reputation that they would never assist me. I could have tried to obtain a potion, but I decided to embrace the changes. I was enough of an outcast as it was. When I was emotionally stable enough, I returned to my parents’ house at night, gathered my essential belongings, and took them back to my study. I never returned to them — I lived out of the abandoned house. I was alone when I turned... it was... overwhelming.”

“I would have preferred to be alone,” the elder vampire mused, stroking his new ward’s back. “You’re fortunate that you don’t have to live with the guilt of killing those close to you.”

The elven vampire blushed at the realization that she had been insensitive.

“I’m sorry you have to carry that burden,” she said softly.

She shifted her position so that her legs crossed over Vicente’s body and rested a hand on his chest.

“It gets easier after a few centuries,” the Breton said with a rueful smile. “What did you do after that?”

Elnora thought for a moment, mentally arranging her more recent history; she had moved so frequently that the timeline tended to swirl in her mind.

“I preyed on the poor on the outskirts of the city for a few months. I never killed anyone, though I came close a few times. The memory of my dead sire haunted me, and I was restless and afraid of discovery. Within a year I purchased passage across the Abecean Sea to Cyrodiil, landing in Anvil. I stayed there for a few weeks, but the port town didn’t suit me, so I moved on to Kvatch. It was a good city, and there was a lovely priest whose blood called to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to profane the sacred. Perhaps I was paranoid, but I left because I thought people were becoming suspicious of me. I went to Skingrad next. I heard from one of the vampires living in a nearby cave that the count himself was a vampire, but—”

“—It’s true,” Vicente interrupted, his eyes twinkling. “He certainly enjoys his evenings.”

“Oh,” Elnora breathed. “He must be powerful.”

The elder vampire smiled at her, and the Altmer realized that he must find her lack of knowledge endearing.

“I didn’t dare seek an audience,” she continued, “and I didn’t want to risk jeopardizing him, so I moved quickly. I tried Bravil, but left after a few hours — far too run-down for my tastes. The Imperial City is beautiful, but there were so many people. I suppose that could have been good for hiding, but I met some extremely rude vampires in my nightly walks and had to leave to get away from them. Chorrol was another pleasant city, but rather expensive, and I got restless. Bruma was too full of Nords... and now I’m here. With you.”

Elnora smiled up at Vicente, and he stroked her hair and returned the smile, his eyes warm with affection.

“Thank you, Elnora. I am honored that you felt comfortable enough to share your story with me.”

“No one had wanted to hear it before... so, thank you.”

The elven vampire sat up slightly to rest her hand against the Breton’s cheek. Her breathing slowed as they held each other’s pale eyes, and a deep longing burned in her chest. Vicente broke the silence first.

“Did you notice any enhancement of your abilities after your turning?”

Elnora rested her chin on her knees and thought for a moment.

“The next time I picked up that axe, it felt surprisingly natural in my hand. My... will was stronger. My destruction skill was ahead of my training... and trapping souls was easier.”

It was Vicente’s turn to pause and think, eventually saying, “I’d say you were turned by a member of the Aundae bloodline.”

“Aundae,” Elnora repeated.

“They are a particularly isolated clan in the Sheogorad region of Vvardenfell, consisting only of Altmer. They are reported to be highly intelligent and very skilled mages. An apt description of you, I think?”

Vicente’s eyes twinkled as he broke into a smile, and Elnora turned crimson. A skeleton sauntered past them, capturing his attention as Elnora hid her face.

“You know so much,” she remarked when she recovered from her embarrassment.

“Immortality tends to have that effect. I brought my reference book from Morrowind — I can’t recall how many times I’ve read it.” Vicente paused briefly, then continued, “perhaps I’ll let you borrow it sometime.”

Elnora smiled her thanks. The pair sat in companionable silence for several minutes until the younger vampire caught herself dozing.

“I should let you rest,” Vicente said softly. He helped his ward stand, then replaced his sword in its sheath, the blade glinting in the candlelight. “It will be daybreak soon enough, and time for my own slumber.”

“Thank you for visiting me here,” Elnora said after they took a few paces toward the exit, their arms linked.

“My pleasure. I’m only sorry that it took so many days.”

“No matter; your company is well worth the wait. Perhaps I’ll venture to the city soon.”

“I’ll watch for you,” Vicente said for a smile. “But for now, rest well, Elnora.”

“You, too, Vicente.”

They held hands a moment longer, each reluctant to let go and let the other out of sight.

“Farewell, dear.”

“Farewell,” Elnora whispered back.

The elder vampire gave her hand a last squeeze, then turned and made his way out of the fort. Elnora watched him until the incline hid him from view, then twirled in happiness, her dress fanning out around her. She trotted over to a corner where the skeleton was now standing.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” she asked, petting its skull. “So very wonderful.”

The skeleton took no notice, and after a few more pets, Elnora returned to her personal area. She took off her gloves and laid them next to her new book, admiring its gold-lined cover as she did so. She changed into her nightwear and prepared for bed, then curled up on a tomb. Her thoughts were full of her new companion and his kindness. She was more content than she had been since her turning and succumbed quickly to sleep, smiling at the thought of Vicente.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though Vicente has the red Cyrodiilic eyes in the game, since he was turned in Morrowind it makes more sense to me for him to be of one of those bloodlines instead, and Berne seems to fit the best.


	3. Chapter 3

Elnora woke at dusk and stretched herself on her tomb of a bed. She washed and dressed — white linen bra to match her panties and drawers, white chemise, black stockings, plain black dress, black boots — then climbed up the ladder and opened the trap door to sit in the entrance of the crypt, letting the cool night breeze wash over her. She realized she was hungry and in want of a walk. After returning to fetch her axe, she threw her cloak around her shoulders and set off into the night. When she had passed out of sight of the marauders’ territory, she summoned a familiar to walk with her.

“Let’s go, little one,” she said to it as it materialized, patting its head. “How about some bandits? There’s a mine full of them around here somewhere.”

The familiar howled happily and bounded a short distance away, sniffing the air for any scent of prey. Elnora followed it, savoring the cold air. After a brisk walk northwest on the mountainside path and several familiars later, the barren ground gave way to grass, and she could sense the bandits. Her wolf companion growled softly. _Shhh, quiet, dear._ The wolf quieted, but its time had expired, and its form dissipated. Elnora cast her invisibility spell and snuck closer to the mine entrance. Stepping around the loose boards strewn on the ground, she spotted a Redguard on a bedroll near the wooden door to the mine. _Hello, breakfast._ She descended upon the sleeping man and sated her appetite on his blood before disappearing under her invisibility spell again. She walked a few paces to the edge of the mountain and looked west. She could see White-Gold Tower in the distance, and her night vision allowed her to discern Cheydinhal among the dark trees. _Vicente._ She wondered if he was at the sanctuary or out on a kill, or perhaps hunting. The sleeping bandit gave a snort and Elnora started. She gave one last look at the city walls then turned back to the path to her crypt, taking her time and enjoying the rare clear night. With her dark cloak wrapped around her, she easily passed the marauders guarding the main towers of the fort, climbed the dilapidated stone stairs, and slipped back into her refuge, patting a skeleton on the head as she returned to her desk.

After she had calmed herself from the walk, she lit a few candles and settled herself at her desk, stroking the cover of her new book a last time before opening it and starting to read. She spent the next few hours poring over it, occasionally muttering phrases of the sort, “poor Lamae” and “how horrid” under her breath. Her emotions alternated between relief and guilt as she read of the blood matron and her bloodlines. Setting the book aside, she stood and stretched herself. She poured some of her ground hyacinth flowers onto her incense stone, and with a flick of her wrist, started them burning. She watched as the smoke swirled slowly into the air, then paced around her study for a minute, centering herself.

Elnora took a deep breath and focused her mind on the waters of Oblivion, visualizing dancing flames. She readied a summoning spell and mentally called to a flame atronach, enticing it to come to her. When she had secured one, she cast the summon, and the atronach materialized in a blaze of fire, lighting up the crypt. _Stay. Do not attack my companions._ She issued instructions quickly but firmly, and the atronach obeyed with a twirl. Elnora surveyed the flaming feminine form for a few seconds. _Aren’t you a beauty?_ The atronach cocked its head, confused at the interaction and wondering why it had been called. _Follow me._ Elnora walked the length of her refuge, and the atronach dutifully followed. She felt the daedra straining against its bonds as it passed the undead dwelling with her, so she focused more energy into strengthening the binding. Satisfied that the atronach had refrained from incinerating her skeletons as she completed her loop around the crypt, she bowed to the daedra as she dismissed it, and the crypt returned to relative darkness. Elnora took her seat again and rested her head in her hands, breathing in the scent of hyacinth as she tried to gather her energy. She knew she needed more practice with flame atronachs — her other summons required much less energy to control, and even though her instructions to the atronach were quick and minimal, she did not need to articulate distinct words to the others; communicating by sharing her emotional impulses was enough. However, she felt confident enough in her abilities to try to summon a more powerful zombie than she was accustomed.

The young vampire poured herself a glass of water and drained it, then leafed through one of her tomes for the incantation she wanted and ran through it until she had committed it to memory. She stood again when she was certain she could recite it and took a few paces away from her desk. With a flourish, she tossed her cloak over her shoulder and smiled to herself. She knew the theatrics were unnecessary, but she enjoyed being the cloaked and hooded vampire — necromancer, conjurer — clad all in black. She readied the spell and reached into the void to call to the undead she sought, casting when one had bid her summon.

Elnora frowned and took a step back when the zombie materialized. The rotting corpse lacked a head and an arm. _This is supposed to be more powerful than a flame atronach?_ The zombie took advantage of the break in her mental control and took a lunge toward her. Elnora snapped back into command and issued orders with all the energy she could muster, but it was not sufficient to control the zombie: it continued to approach her, lashing out with its one arm. Accustomed to summoned zombies being fairly powerless, she had underestimated its strength and started to panic, backing away and screaming aloud at the corpse even as she thought _it can’t hear me it doesn’t have a head just dismiss it._ The zombie’s arm collided with her stomach and knocked her down with surprising force. She landed hard on the floor, wincing. Before she could dismiss the rogue corpse, it kicked her side and took a swing at her face, bloodying her lip and interrupting her thoughts, allowing it to pommel her until its time expired a few moments later. Elnora lay on the floor for several minutes, breathing deeply and clutching her sides. _Lorkhan’s heart, never again._ She sucked the blood from her lip and pulled herself into a sitting position. After prodding her face and sides gently, she determined that nothing was broken, though her right side would probably bruise. When she regained her strength, she stood and hobbled back to her desk where she could sit again.

Elnora added more incense powder to the stone, thankful that the scent was strong enough to mask the pungent rot of her summon. She could not fathom who would want to summon the decomposing corpses and shuddered at the thought of her recent horror. She took off her cloak, which had thankfully remained untouched, and examined her dress. A relieved smile spread across her face as she discovered it was not damaged. It was, however, in need of a wash, as was she, so she undressed to her drawers and poured some water into her washbasin, adding some dried lavender to further distance the scent of death. As she ran a cool cloth over her face, she lamented the bruise that would appear on her cheekbone. _What will Vicente think? I can’t control my own summons. I’m an embarrassment, not the talented mage he praised._ Her shame turned to frustration. _It didn’t even have a head!_ She ran the cloth over her ribs, unable to suppress another wince. Sighing, Elnora wrung out the cloth and added some soap to the basin. She scrubbed her dress until she was certain no traces of rotting zombie remained, then hung it to dry. She slipped into her nightwear and carried her washbasin to the far corner of the crypt to dump the contents down the drain, collapsing on her bed after returning the basin to its stand. Her body ached, and her physical and mental energy levels were depleted. It took all she had to unlace her boots and take off her stockings before she lapsed into an early sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Elnora awoke sore, unsure what time it was. She got off her bed gingerly and hobbled to the ladder so she could prop open the trap door and check the weather.

“Gods’ blood,” she hissed, letting the door fall as she recoiled from the sunlight. She guessed it was near midday, far too early to venture to the city. Elnora wanted nothing but to rest anyway. She made her way back to her bed and lifted up her nightgown to examine her side. There were red blotches on her skin, but the worst of the bruising had yet to appear, and she assumed the same held for her face. She used a simple frost spell to ice the bruises, making sure to get her skin cold enough for the effect to last for several minutes, then reclined again. One of her skeletons ambled by. Lazily, she reached out her hand to get its attention. It turned to face her and approached, and she ran her fingers along its arm.

“You’re so good,” she crooned. “So clean, so docile. So... perfect.”

The skeleton chose that moment to walk away.

“Figures,” Elnora muttered. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, laying quietly for another few hours until she woke in discomfort. She took a deep breath and iced her bruises again, frowning as she noticed they had started to turn purple, then pulled herself off her tomb to get ready for the evening. Pouring more water into her basin, she realized she would need to leave her pitcher outside to gather more snow. _Everything is empty,_ she thought as she added dried lavender from her dwindling supply. _I’ll need to buy more when I go into town._ She washed her face, then cupped water in her hands and leaned over the basin to wash her hair, massaging her temples and working the water through her hair. It appeared longer when wet, falling to her chest instead of a few inches past her shoulders as it did in its dry and wavy state. When she finished, she wrung out her hair and toweled it as dry as she could. She undressed, put on a fresh set of clothes, drained her basin, and with a deep breath, returned to her desk.

Elnora spent the next hour updating her diary and her research journal with the events of the past several days: her meetings with Vicente, his story and kindness, her rogue summon. She checked the light levels outside again; the sun was low on the horizon, so she put on her cloak and axe, grabbed her satchel and pitcher and patted a skeleton’s head as she glided out of crypt into the sunset. She put on her hood and braced herself against the remaining light, placed the pitcher by the trap door, and set off along the mountain paths at a quick pace. Night fell well before she arrived in the city, but it was winter: the stores were still offering services. She made her way to the mages’ guild, lowering her hood in a decision to attract attention with her bruise rather than her glowing eyes. As she looked around for an alchemist, her gaze was caught by an irritated-looking, well-dressed Altmer. He seemed to be appraising her, and Elnora looked away, discomfited. _I hope I don’t look too much like a necromancer._ The vampire found the ingredients on display and handed over a few septims for the bunch of lavender she wanted, which she placed in her satchel. As she left the guildhall, she could feel the Altmer’s eyes on her back; she put on her hood and shuddered after the door closed behind her.

Not wanting to draw attention to her knowledge of the sanctuary, Elnora decided to wander around the town, hoping that Vicente was watching as he said he would. Her eyes caught the sign for the bookstore, and she went in to have a look. She found a section on ancient history and picked one with an interesting title. _Hanging Gardens._ She flipped past the Dwemeris to the Aldmeris, alternatively smiling and frowning as she tried to decipher it.

“Would you like that book?” a familiar voice asked close to her ear.

Elnora closed the book with a start; she had not heard Vicente approach.

“Oh, um,” she stammered, blushing. “I was only looking.” She knew any book that would be of interest to her would cost more than she would care to spend, and she placed it back on the shelf.

“Shall we?” she asked, motioning to the door. Vicente nodded, and they returned to the night.

“You’re here early,” he remarked.

“I needed to restock my lavender supply. And... I couldn’t keep myself away from you any longer.”

Vicente returned the young elf’s smile with a frown, and she blushed and looked away, feeling her happiness dissipate. She remained lost in thought as he led them out of the main gate.

“Are we going somewhere?” she asked quietly when she noticed that they were walking south along the city walls, almost afraid to hear his response.

“Not far. The lake is lovely in the moonlight, and generally a good place to be alone.”

Elnora longed for his touch, but he had again clasped his behind his back, and she did not want to presume, especially after his unexpected coldness. They walked a few minutes in silence before they arrived at the lake and began to walk around it. Moonlight sparkled beautifully on the surface, twinkling invitingly. Elnora was mesmerized. It vaguely reminded her of her visit to Alinor and all the sparkling buildings there.

“You haven’t taken off your hood. May I see your face?” Seeming to sense the female vampire’s hesitation, he asked quietly, “Are you afraid?”

“No, I —” Elnora’s voice trailed as she lowered her hood and met his eyes with a wry smile.

Vicente looked alarmed. He reached out to touch the side of her face, but thought better of it and simply asked, “Are you all right?”

Elnora nodded sheepishly.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“Something, more like,” she responded cryptically. 

“Elnora, tell me.”

“I had an unfortunate encounter with one of my summons,” she said, a little too quickly. “Zombies are, um, much stronger than I thought.”

Vicente frowned.

“I’m still learning,” she explained, embarrassed. “I have more of an affinity for skeletons.” She hung her head, then continued softly, “It’s difficult not having a teacher. I’ve done everything on my own. I’m doing the best I can.”

Vicente made no response, and Elnora turned away in shame, focusing her gaze on the reflections on the lake. She could hardly believe that this was the same man who had held and comforted her only a few days ago. After taking a few moments to collect herself, she turned back to the Breton.

“If you don’t want my company, I’ll take it elsewhere,” she said, her voice breaking.

Vicente looked taken aback and hurt.

“I never meant to imply that.”

Elnora searched his eyes as he held out a hand for her to take. She stared at it for a moment too long, her mind and heart conflicted, before accepting it. Vicente gave her hand a small tug, indicating that they should continue rounding the lake.

“You will know to take proper precaution next time.”

“If there is one. Zombies are repulsive. But you, how are you?”

“Well. I’ve been better.”

“And your work?”

Vicente gave her a sidelong glance before responding, “Plentiful, as always.”

They silently turned around when they started to feel a subtle pain from the proximity of the wayshrine near the city wall.

“You could go back to Chorrol. The mages’ guild there specializes in conjuration.”

“I suppose I could. I’m still afraid of... people.” _And then I’d be leaving you._

To Elnora’s surprise, Vicente laughed softly. He noticed her affronted look.

“You are so refreshingly not Cyrodiilic,” he explained, gently pulling her closer and putting his arm around her waist. Elnora flinched; Vicente recoiled.

“I’m sorry, I — my side,” she said.

“You’re hurt, Elnora. You should be resting, not walking around with me. It was foolish to make the journey here.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated sadly, looking at the ground.

Vicente bid them stop and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I’d rather not anything happen to you, that’s all.”

He pulled her closer to him and put his arms around her; Elnora kept her gaze to the ground and let herself be hugged.

“Can you make it back?” Vicente asked after he released her.

The younger vampire nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

“I don’t want to disturb your rest.”

“I’ll return here when I’ve healed. It will be a few days, not to worry,” she added with a hint of bitterness.

Vicente gave her a look that was equal parts confusion, apology, and surprise.

“Until next time,” the Altmer said with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

“Until then, yes,” Vicente repeated, still bemused.

Elnora turned, put up her hood, and set off toward Scinia, casting invisibility when she reached the forest. Her walk was uneventful, allowing her thoughts to wander. _What changed? Did I do something wrong? Was it my summon? Did he find someone else, or was he just unhappy? Is it because I’m not Brotherhood? Does he not trust me? Am I overreacting?_ Endless questions swirled in her head until she reached her own sanctuary. The young vampire sighed as she entered, wishing she could return home to someone other than her silent skeletal companions. Loneliness crashed into her, and she cried as she sat down on her bed. After a few minutes of bitter tears, she raised her eyes to see the three skeletons gathered around her.

“Can you tell I’m sad, darlings?” she asked, smiling pathetically at them.

She stood and gathered them as close as she could, giving them all pets.

“I’ll be all right, little ones.”

The night was still young, so she wiped her tears and retrieved the book Vicente had given her. She returned to her bed and settled on her stomach for a reread. She could not help but turn each page lovingly. _Perhaps this will be all I have to remember him by._ Then, _No, Elnora, don’t be stupid. If he didn’t want to see you, he wouldn’t have sought you out. You’ve just been out of contact with people for too long._ Hours passed, and she finished the book a second time. She got up, placed the book back on her desk, prepared for sleep, and returned to bed. She wondered how she would spend her time recovering, eventually deciding that she would take walks anyway. It was only a bruise, after all. She quickly passed into a dreamless sleep, and slept the day away.


End file.
